Burger

As a kid, one of the things I looked forward to each fall was the arrival of the West Tennessee State Fair, which was held in Madison, my home county. Like all fairs, this one was chock-full of good, greasy things to eat, but I happily skipped past the corn dogs, turkey legs, and pulled pig in favor of the juicy griddle-fried hamburgers that flew like hotcakes from a booth lined with long, low benches. I top my version with tangy, creamy Pimiento Cheese for extra Southern flavor. If you don’t have a griddle, a cast-iron skillet will work just fine.

Try these spicy vegetarian burgers served on hamburger buns or in whole wheat pita pockets, layered with sliced tomato and red onion and drizzled with tangy yogurt sauce.

Tzatziki, a traditional Greek dressing made from cucumber, yogurt, and mint, lends a cool complement to the burgers.

Dijon mustard and Worcestershire sauce flavor these burgers before they’re cooked. We like them with lettuce, tomato, and mayo on one side, and grilled onions on the other, but try any of the accompaniments listed below.

The combination of dried spices and fresh seasonings, including lemon, ginger, and scallion, makes these burgers irresistible. Watermelon slices are served on the side to balance the heat of the burgers.

In this recipe, cheese and mustard are incorporated into the burger rather than being used as toppings. For juicier burgers, avoid using the leanest ground turkey.

I wasn’t enthused about this recipe idea and was not particularly happy when I had to test it. In my opinion, the world didn’t need another mushroom burger. But I went to work and was quickly finished. “At least it didn’t take very long,” I mumbled. I bit into it, expecting the standard, run-of-the-mill mushroom burger you get in every restaurant nowadays, but then I had to pause mid-chew. This was no normal mushroom burger. This—this was a luau in my mouth! Okay, maybe that’s a tiny overstatement, but this is so easy and good, there’s no reason not to make it.

Unknown to the majority of this country, the green chile cheeseburger is a beloved culinary treasure of New Mexico. Having been there and sampled my share, I know exactly why New Mexicans love it as they do, and that’s why I had to bring my own version to New York. With its fresh bite, the Hatch chile is a favorite in New Mexico, where there is a whole festival celebrating the hometown crop. I like to add some heat to my green chile relish with roasted serranos and use milder, peppery poblano chiles to round out the mix. Tossing the chiles with acidic red wine vinegar and vibrant cilantro ensures a nice freshness to balance the creamy, decadent cheese sauce. Add some bright color and flavor with pickled red onions and some salty crunch with blue tortilla chip crumbles, and you’ve got a burger worth serving to even the toughest New Mexico critics.

Cooking over cedar planks creates amazing flavor, infusing every bite with smoky complexity. And so I decided it was time for salmon to share the cedar love and give burgers some of that star treatment. It works. Since this is, after all, a method born in the Pacific Northwest, it only seems right to outfit the burger with toppings inspired by the region. A barbecue sauce made with Pinot Noir—the grape that put Oregon’s wine on the map—and an earthy sauté of wild mushrooms flavorfully fit the bill.

There is only one ingredient that is used in every burger recipe. It is not the all-beef patty (burgers can be made from pork, ostrich, bison, portobello, soy, lamb, turkey); it’s not the sesame seed bun (there is baguette, millet loaf, no bun at all); it’s not the special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, etcetera, etcetera. All are optional. It’s salt. You cannot make a great burger without it. I’ve never seen a recipe that didn’t call for anywhere from a pinch to a teaspoon. Yet rarely if ever does a recipe name specifically which salt might be the best one for the job. Salt should improve a burger in three ways. It should expand the fullness and complexity of the meat’s own flavor by lending complementary mineral depth. It should produce a layering of flavors, presenting more or less of itself unpredictably with every bite. It should lend a crunch of texture that calls attention to itself by contrasting with the succulence of the meat and signaling the flavor dynamics of the sandwich to your mind and your palate. In other words, it should do its work, do it in a disciplined manner, and communicate the work it has done effectively. Sel gris is chunky, moist, and packed with fresh minerals—perfect for the job.

At Marination they dress the SPAM sliders with their signature “nunya sauce” and slaw with a pickled ginger vinaigrette.

Get the defibrillator ready; you might have a heart attack. If the calories and fat don’t get you, the unbelievable explosion of flavor will. It’s worth it, though. Trust me, I’m a doctor. In fact, my Hippocratic oath requires me to tell you that any leftover Sriracha–blue cheese spread makes an excellent dip for sweet potato fries. now take this prescription to your local grocery store to be filled immediately!

These chickpea burgers are similar to a Middle Eastern falafel. But the Americanized version of falafel usually resembles carnival food: they’re often deep-fried in some unhealthy oil. It makes me want to cry, because falafel done right is so delicious and nutritious. It’s all in the blend. Here the secret ingredient is basmati rice, which holds the chickpea mixture together and creates a complete protein. I love the mini-burger concept; the whole wheat bun is like putting falafel in a top hat and tails, and it’s perfect for folks who like the taste of beans when they’re broken down and combined with heady herbs and spices. Gently pan-seared or baked, these burgers are bountiful bites of health, especially topped with a dollop of Tomato Mint Chutney (page 176).

When it comes to burgers, we Deens mean business. We like to keep the seasonings on the meat simple, then go all out on the toppings. Mama got us started with a fried egg on top of the burger, which can get messy, but then again, by the time we finish piling it all on—bacon, avocado, lettuce, tomato, grilled mushrooms and onions, pickles, steak sauce—well, it’s a three-napkin burger at the very least.

Can you guess how many turkey-bean burgers we ate when we were growing up? Zero! We’re big beef burger fans and we could eat a burger every few nights if we let ourselves. So every now and then, we lighten things up with turkey and black beans in this Mexican-inspired twist on a traditional burger. It’s about as healthy a burger as you could ask for, and it’s a real crowd-pleaser, too—even little Jack likes it! And since we usually serve this burger without the bun, we like to make our corn bread to go with it.

In 2004, I won a big burger-cooking contest in Whistler, British Columbia, against a bunch of other professional barbecue cooks. “You were shooting to do America’s favorite burger better than it’s ever been done before, and you definitely pulled it off.” That’s what Paul Street, the director of food and beverage at Whistler Blackcomb, declared when I was named the champion. Part of winning the competition was the honor of your burger appearing on their menu for a year; my burger’s been on the menu ever since that day. My secret is to smoke the burger first, then sear it in a bit of butter afterward to seal in the moisture, create a crust, and add an extra layer of flavor and richness. I just wanted to come up with the best damn burger I could—one that was meaty and juicy and also infused with great smoky flavor. Now cooking burgers in a smoker is a must for me because I love it when the meat is kissed with smoke; if you’ve never tried it this way, you ought to. That said, you can do the first step in the oven on those days you don’t want to fire up a smoker or grill—it will still be delicious, don’t you worry. I like generously portioned burgers, and these are half-pounders. Feel free to make them smaller if you like.